


Life Is Weird

by takatamer



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Collaboration, M/M, Otherwise nearly all of the characters introduced are canon characters, The original characters are just characters needed to fit the au, life is strange au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takatamer/pseuds/takatamer
Summary: Clay pulled down his hoodie, looking through the trees to see bright flashing lights in the distance. Oh, his dad was so going to kill him if he found out just where he was. Standing on the train tracks in the middle of the woods, dodging the occasional train car as it whizzed past, horns blaring. Not his idea of a perfect night, but it was soon to get better.





	Life Is Weird

Clay pulled down his hoodie, looking through the trees to see bright flashing lights in the distance. Oh, his dad was  _ so _ going to kill him if he found out just where he was. Standing on the train tracks in the middle of the woods, dodging the occasional train car as it whizzed past, horns blaring. Not his idea of a perfect night, but it was soon to get better. 

 

Tonight was the Gavinners’ concert, held in a worn down abandoned barn. There was no way in hell that he would miss it, even if it meant sneaking out of the house to go see it. Clay hopped over a fence conveniently adorned with a sign labelled “No Trespassing”.  _ Take that, capitalism.  _

 

As he approached the building, he already could hear the muffled music coming from the rotted walls. An empty fire pit, a line of motorcycles, and a couple of grown men stood between him and the door. Clay sauntered up to the door, pushing past the bouncer deliberately before he got pulled back. 

 

“Nope. Sorry, kid,” the bouncer said, gently steering him away from the entrance. “I’m gonna need to see ID. You look a little young to be hangin’ out here!”

 

Clay clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Maybe I am young, ‘cause this place looks like a damn playground to me,” he snapped back, crossing his arms. He didn’t go through all that trouble of crawling out a window, jumping from a roof, and tumbling onto the ground just to be stopped at the door of one of the best concerts of the year. 

 

“Aw, don’t get all grumpy on me,” the bouncer replied, apparently completely unfazed. If anything, he looked  _ amused _ , and it was kind of annoying. “I’ve got your best interests in mind and all that, it’s dangerous for a squirt like you to be tusslin’ with grown-ups.”

 

Clay furrowed his eyebrows, but acted quickly. This was going to be harder than he thought. He’d have to lay it on thick. “Do I look like a squirt to you, or do I look like I’m going to kick your ass?” Clay bit out, getting up into the bouncer’s face, making himself look taller despite being the enormous height of 5’8. 

 

That was enough to startle the bouncer into stepping back a bit, but he still seemed anything but swayed. Once the initial shock wore off, his shoulders were shaking with laughter. “You’re a cute kid! Squirt indeed, but a scrappy one, I’ll give ya that. Still, that’s not as good as ID. You’re gonna have to run off, little guy.” 

 

“Cute,” Clay repeated bitterly, looking off to the side. His eye caught on a motorcycle with a design printed on the side, a direct match in design to the tattoo on the bouncer’s shoulder. He smirked. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who has  _ pretty flowers  _ on his bike.”

 

Now  _ that _ struck a nerve. The bouncer frowned and folded his arms, bristling. “Those flowers represent mourning, thanks. But look, insult me all night, it’s not gonna do ya any good. You don’t get in without ID, boss’s orders.”

 

_ Perfect. _ Clay had just the backtalk for that. “Hah, boss? ‘scuse me, but is the boss your mom? Follow-up, do you live in your boss’s basement?”

 

The bouncer squinted, a cross between insulted and confused. “Okay. Look. Somethin’ tells me you’re not gonna listen no matter what. Am I right?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“What if I decide to fight you off? Think you could handle it?”

 

“I could handle you any day, Grandpa.”

 

The bouncer snorted and reached down to a holster at his hip. “What about this, then?” he asked, suddenly unsheathing a very long, very sharp knife.

 

Clay swallowed at the sight of it, but he stood his ground. “No problem. Still could take you on.”

 

“Oh yeah?” The bouncer grinned and twirled the knife. “What if I had a gun, too?”

 

“Yep,” he snapped, though he didn’t want to test his chances. If the man really had a knife, it was likely he had a gun too. Yet he continued to stare the bouncer down, unyielding. The band grew louder in the background.  _ So close… _

 

The bouncer tapped his chin thoughtfully with his unoccupied hand, still flipping the knife without a care in the world.  _ Come  _ **_on._ ** “What iiiiiif…”

 

Clay grew impatient quickly, his voice raising as he bursted, stomping his foot. “Look, you could have a flamethrower, an army of robot ninjas, and a  _ motherfucking dragon on a leash _ in there, and I’d  _ still _ kick your ass!” 

 

The bouncer absolutely lost it at that, laughing loudly and almost fumbling with the knife, sheathing it before he could take off his fingers. Or, given how careless he was being, Clay’s head. “Alright, alright, you win! Go on in, just don’t start any scraps. Not everyone is as nice to kids as me, little guy.” 

 

_ Score. _ Clay grinned and walked past the bouncer. “Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively, already pushing past the door and making a beeline inside. 

 

The atmosphere of the inside of the barn was entirely different than the outside. It was dark and musky, the stench of weed basically soaked into the wooden pillars of the walls. Neon lights glowed brightly in a bluish haze. People lounged in chairs, drinking lazily. Clay never could understand why people wanted be out here when the party was  _ in there. _ He looked to a hallway off to the side, past a couch that seemed to be occupied by… Simon Blackquill?

 

He made his way over to Simon, dodging a couple of drunken stumblers, standing in front of a clearly-stoned Mister Blackquill. “Uh… Hey Simon.”

 

Simon stared at Clay silently for a long moment before giving a quiet, “Hey.”

 

“Clay,” he offered, rubbing his arm awkwardly as if he were back at his middle school’s shitty graduation dance and talking to his crush. “Clay Terran. I’m uh, one of your clients?”

 

Simon’s lips curled back in a sneer. “I know who you fucking are. You only owe me a ridiculous sum.” 

 

“Aha, right,” Clay laughed it off, looking to the side. “Listen, I’ll get the money, promise. I’m just… in a rough spot right now and all. You know how it is.”

 

“Hm. Interesting,” Simon muttered, tapping his knee. “It’s so funny how everyone suddenly ends up in rough spots when they owe money. I wonder why that is.” 

 

Clay swallowed thickly. Simon was never a pleasant person to talk to, but what was to be expected from a drug dealer? Instead, Clay opted to change the subject, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking anywhere but at Simon. “So… come here often?”

 

“Yes,” Simon said curtly, staring Clay down. Just as intimidating as always.

 

Clay coughed into his hand. Wonderful, this was going great. Never better. “Well. I will… see you around.” Clay stepped back, wheeling back towards the stairwell. But upon closer inspection, they seemed to be rotted to hell. He looked back at Simon, his head poking around the corner. “These good to use?”

 

“How the hell would I know, idiot?” Simon snapped, rubbing his temples. “Don’t you have someone else to irritate to hell and back?” 

 

“You were the one who said you came here often,” Clay muttered, stepping away from the stairs and instead opting to take the hallway through. Talking with Simon sure was a fucking pleasure. A pleasure he would prefer not to indulge in, as he pushed through the crowd of people dancing recklessly. 

 

Or, would have, if not for the insane amount of jumping that was going on in such a closed space. 

 

Clay was pushed back out of the hallway, stumbling back on his heels as he tried to regain his footing, body slamming straight into an unfortunate person behind him. He wheeled around to see a man and his buddy covered in beer, and the glass in one man’s hand completely empty, thanks to Clay’s clumsiness. Whoops.

 

“ _ Look _ what you fucking did!” the beer-covered man snapped, fanning at his ruined shirt. “You owe me an apology, dumbass!”

 

“My bad, dude,” Clay replied nonchalantly, looking around the man’s shoulder to look back at the hallway.  _ Guess the moshpit is a no-go. _ Maybe the stairs were a better option after all, he’d just have to get around this royal dipshit first. He already apologized, what more did he want?

 

The man simply curled his lip and shoved Clay aside, walking off in a huff. His companion decided to take the opportunity to get the last word in, though, loudly calling Clay a bitch.

 

Wasn’t the first nor last time Clay would be called one. He rolled his eyes and moved to the stairs, looking one more time at Simon, who had his head back and eyes closed in bliss, before heading upstairs to see the show from above.

 

Walking carefully and testing his footing before moving, he made his way up to the second floor and over to the ledge, looking at the show from the best seat in the house. Clay couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.  _ There they were. _ He sat on the ledge, swinging his legs happily. It was all so good; the lights, the music, the voices. Clay leaned back, just enjoying the concert. This was so worth it. 

 

Footsteps. A face came into view above Clay’s.

 

The man Clay had ran into, along with his little cohort, had actually followed Clay up the stairs. They both peered down at Clay, though the one with a beer-splattered shirt looked far more incensed and dangerous than the other. “You didn’t really think it’d be that easy, did you?”

 

Clay jerked up and scrambled to his feet, backing up as far as the platform would allow him to.  _ Shit shit shit _ . “Just who the fuck… do you think you are?” He tried not to let the fear seep into his voice, but being backed to a ledge by a couple of scrappy men who did  _ not _ like getting their beer spilled wasn’t exactly the best of scenarios.

 

“I think I’m someone that matters a hell of a lot more than your punk ass,” the man snapped, gesturing threateningly with his empty beer bottle. “So? How are you gonna make it up to me?”

 

“Don’t have to do anything,” Clay replied curtly, looking around for a way out of the scene as fast as possible.  _ Just think _ . There was a little bit more space off to the man’s left. He moved to duck out of the way.

 

The man blocked his path, taking the opportunity to smash his bottle against the beam to make a dangerous weapon. “I think you do. Cash? Weed? What have you got?”

 

Before Clay could work out a response, and thankfully before the man grew any more violent, another presence entered the scene; a tall, arguably  _ very _ pretty man with a mess of a braid and even messier makeup. “Hey, dickhead!” he called out, distracting the assailants as they turned to look at the odd man. 

 

_ Nahyuta Sahdmadhi? _

 

Clay used the sudden chance to bring his knee up sharply to the beer-shirt man’s crotch, kneeing him so hard that Clay could feel his knee crunch against bone. Ouch. He hopped a little to get back his footing as he ran past the man and his dumbfounded buddy. 

 

Just as he aimed to make his escape, though, the companion seemed to snap out of his daze, reeling back his arm and slugging Clay in the eye as he made his way past. Nahyuta rushed forward and caught him by the arm as he stumbled, and pulled him so hard, the initial yank almost dislocated his shoulder. 

 

Nahyuta had gotten a tight, almost painful grip on Clay’s wrist, dragging him out of the area and down the stairs without a word, only casting a small smile over his shoulder.  _ Was he enjoying this?  _

 

Clay stumbled as he was pulled down the stairs by Nahyuta  _ fucking _ Sahdmadhi, his head still spinning. What was he even doing here?

 

They made their way back down to the main room and Nahyuta made a beeline for the more crowded room, the room the band was playing in. But a couple of shouts sounded behind them, and lo and behold, the limping man and his drunken pal were right after them. Clay looked pleadingly over his shoulder at Simon, who was still on the couch from earlier, making eye contact.  _ Please. _

 

Simon, startled out of his reverie by the sudden shouting, stared at Clay in confusion before he registered the duo tailing them. Without an ounce of hesitation, he drew himself up and out of the couch, more intimidating than he had any right to be, and grabbed at the two men. “You two sure are a sorry couple of asses, aren’t you?” he snapped. “Surely you have more productive things to do than chasing down  _ children _ ? Or are you just that pathetic?”

 

The men were suitably distracted by that, fiercely arguing in their own favor, though neither of them seemed to have the guts or the stupidity to start anything physical with Simon. Smart enough for that much .

 

Clay laughed his thanks and blew a kiss with his middle finger as Nahyuta continued to drag him into the other room, into the noise and people, where he longed all night to be. And he finally got there, with  _ Nahyuta _ no less. He kept repeating his name in his head, still in slight disbelief. 

 

“Hey uh, thanks,” Clay said, his voice raised higher to be heard over the sound of the band and the screams of the people.

 

Nahyuta finally let go of Clay’s wrist, spinning around with an excited grin as they shifted through the massive crowd of people. “Don’t mention it!” he said, just as loudly as Clay. “It’s fun to do things like that. I haven’t had a fight before!” 

 

“Couldn’t imagine why,” Clay replied sarcastically, remembering how the man in front of him was the valedictorian of their class, the prized prodigy, and the school’s most popular student. Not to mention the son of the District Attorney.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure it comes as a surprise,” Nahyuta shot back playfully, pulling lightly at Clay’s sleeve. “Hurry up! Let’s get to the front!” 

 

Clay let himself be pulled in, starting to grin maniacally himself. This should be one hell of a night.


End file.
